


The Black Death

by zaithat



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Character Study, Dark Ages, Gen, Off-screen death, Plague, black death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaithat/pseuds/zaithat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew he had threats in his Dark Age, so he found ways to keep his reign of fear strong.</p>
<p>But for every action is a reaction. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Death

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic for Rise of the Guardians, and my first drabble to really ever post. I tend to try and write much longer, epic stories, but this was an idea I kind of loved.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! More information, if you want, about this will be at the end.

He knew this could be the end of his era. He could tell in the small traditions rising out of his darkness and fear, to bring light and laughter to the children. Still, he would not let a little thing like belief and new traditions defeat him. They had always tried to push him back, with their hope and wonder and memories and dreams of the light.

 

But light always produced a shadow. And where the shadows existed, so he would he.

 

And he would be able to make the shadows stronger.

 

The last generation was getting too hopeful, too strong with their growing numbers and their better lives. He would just need to find a way to make this work to his advantage.

 

Such base fears like starvation. . . they were nearly too easy to use. He hated to use such parlor tricks, but they said use what you know works best.

 

So the crops began to fail. People began to fear again, and he renewed his grip on their lives. His Dark Age would not end this quickly.

 

He had been wrong. . .

 

He _hated_ to be wrong. . .

 

_Something_ needed to be done.

 

The people had not stayed fearful for long. They had taught their children the same wretched, terrible qualities that had weakened his stronghold the first time. Worst of all, their believes were strengthening his old friend, and he knew it would not take long for him to do something to stop him.

 

He would just have to move first. To make sure there was no good weakness to come at him through. His friend did not remember who he was fighting against. This land was his, and nothing would stop him from that.

 

But he was losing his hold a little bit each year, and each year he grew angier. He needed plan of action to regain his hold.

 

He decided, since most people thought him associated with death, he would give them what they wanted. The fear of dying was a powerful one and spread so quickly he would only have to give it a little nudge. He started in a small place, watching the black spots slowly grow and spread, watched them create a physical reminder for his people to fear him by.

 

To him, he was watching the shadows slowly take over their proper food source. He smiled with his sharp teeth bared at the sight. His shadows felt so much stronger the more they attacked. He didn’t even care if they didn’t completely claim everyone they attacked, just the sight of those livid black sores were enough to spread the fear.

 

The reactions in the different places, they were like the finest ambrosia. He watched as people condemned those they didn’t understand, blaming things they had no control over on them. And the people who didn’t even have the shadows, they were preaching and making such demonstrations no one could avoid being terrified of his shadows. He found himself having to do less and less tweaking with the shadows. The people were great at making their own chaos.

 

The chaos bred more fear, and with that fear he grew stronger. Even the fear of adults were sweet to him, with their unpure hearts producing so much he could properly feed off of it.

 

Still, even he knew all good things needed to end. The shadows burned themselves out, but the threat of their return, that was enough for him to keep growing stronger. He would cackle as he watched them still bicker over what might have caused this plague. He even found himself greatly enjoying the name they gave this disease.

 

The Black Death.

 

The words just made him smile, no matter how they were discussing it. He knew this would be the perfect weapon for him to pull out to feed his shadows.

 

But, he never expected it to become his own undoing.

 

Somehow, as the people picked up the pieces of their lives before fear completely consumed them, they found a way to make those stupid, little traditions stronger. And his old, blasted friend, he had recruited soldiers for his stupid little fight.

 

The Guardians of Childhood, they called themselves. All from areas he didn’t control properly then, coming up to stop him with their ideals of light.

 

He tried to summon enough strength, but the Black Death had started something he could not compete against.

 

Those who had survived, they remembered there was a light in all of the darkness.

 

Those who fought against his lovely shadows, had dreams of a world filled with light.

 

Those who had lost friends and family, fostered hope that life would continue through the darkness.

 

Those who came after, saw the world in wonder as their world was changed by his destruction.

 

And Pitch Black, he was forced to be less than a memory, less than a belief in those people he had once contained with such firm control.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I was a middle schooler, I have been a bit. . . obsessed with the Black Death and the Middle Ages. When the movie mentioned that Pitch was at one of his heights of power during the Dark Ages, I was really intrigued. I thought about the Black Death, something that left such strong scars and left so much fear in Europe that I had to use this idea! When he mentions that the Plague was his downfall, it really was one of the downfalls for the old structures that kept the Middle Ages going. Plus, the reactions people gave, of the condemning other groups of people and the preaching, are all true as well.
> 
> I could keep going on about this forever, but I'm going to contain myself here. If you want to ask more questions, feel free to leave a comment, or hop over to my tumblr at zaithat.tumblr.com to chat!


End file.
